


Bleeding Me

by A_Hawk



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Catholic Imagery, Childhood Trauma, Church Sex, Dark, Inaccurate Catholicism, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, PLEASE DON'T READ IF THESE THEMES DISTURB YOU!!!, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Trauma, Vampire AU, Vampire Ermal/Priest Fabrizio AU, and extra drama queen & very unstable Ermal, constantly exhausted & done with everything Fab, on a lighter note this could also be called:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Hawk/pseuds/A_Hawk
Summary: A world where humans live in constant fear of vampires. An odd-looking church at the end of the forest. A lonely vampire who hates his nature but can't help indulging it. A mysterious priest with a delinquent-like appearance who wants to protect people at all costs. A secret deal between them, secret powers and secret memories. And blood to seal them all.(From a tumblr aesthetic/prompt by thedanadelmar: au where ermal is a lonely vampire and fabrizio is a church priest in a small town. nobody knows why there haven’t been any vampire attacks on the city for decades. only a priest who sacrificed his soul to a dangerous monster in exchange for the lives of people in the town keeps this horrible secret)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw thedanadelmar's [aesthetic](https://thedanadelmar.tumblr.com/post/183801391068/au-where-ermal-is-a-lonely-vampire-and-fabrizio) and idea I started having[ ideas](https://a---fire---inside.tumblr.com/post/183813420568/au-where-ermal-is-a-lonely-vampire-and-fabrizio) about it. Then I had another idea and wrote Da Uomo A Uomo Mano Nella Mano, before getting back to this one. The 2 fics have nothing in common but there is something they have in common, actually.  
> Anyway, I was really slow as usual but finally I made it. The bad news is that I didn't make it writing a oneshot. The good news is that there is going to be another chapter, and it's going to be dark and even though not graphic or explicit, someone might feel offended because of the church setting. If you can't stand this kind of things, or if you can't stand power play and power inbalance, pls don't read.
> 
> Needless to say I know nothing about the real people, this is a work of fiction intended to stay on Ao3 and not on social media where the real ones have accounts.
> 
> In the endnotes I explained a few details, in case someone's interested.

 

>   _“_ _I am the priest that feeds the beast_
> 
> _I am the blood I am release_
> 
> _Come make me pure Bleed me a cure_ _” (Metallica, Bleeding Me)_

 

According to folk stories the forest was so big and full of dangers that God himself put a church where it ended, so that its priest would protect the people living nearby.

It’s a small, white building that doesn’t match the typical stones and wood brownish ones of that region, with no stained glass windows or fancy columns, spires or gargoyles, only crosses with skulls and bones, and an engraving in an unknown language.

The inside it’s just as simple, besides a fresco on the ceiling and some paintings.

At a closer look though, wooden benches and marble altar and holy water stoup aside, everything else from the chandeliers to the candle holders and all the decorations, are made of skulls and bones, a reminder that death awaits everyone.

Looking down from the hilltop where the church is located there are cultivated fields and a few houses. Further down the same road there’s a village that used to be bigger and more prosperous in the past, until its population, as well as the nearby ones, was decimated.

There has always been a balance between human and vampires, until it broke, and bad things happened.

* * *

 

No one knows where the priest came from or when: the church stayed abandoned for God knows how long, and one day he was there.

The villagers were in such need to confess their sins and listen to sacred words that they immediately welcomed him, not minding how different he looked, with his tanned skin and messy black hair so unlike their blond hair and fair complexion, and not being bothered by his low voice and accent, as it was easy to understand him and his touching sermons.  
Most of it all they didn’t worry if more than a priest he reminded them of a delinquent, with all those tattoos even on his neck and hands, some being letters, words in a language they didn’t understand. They looked similar to those engraved in the church, as if he belonged there. Besides, despite his rough appearance and his frequent silences, he was always there for those who asked for his help.

People used to live in constant fear back then; he smiled and reassured them, cause if they prayed with all their heart he would keep them safe.

When their wish was granted they assumed it was thanks to his religious practices, like meditation or fasting or even self-flagellation. Or _something else_.

They did notice that at times, during Mass, the priest’s voice was broken and his posture was unsteady, as if he were about to faint.

They did notice that those times, when they talked to him, he looked lost, almost in pain. They didn’t notice that it happened every month, the day after the new moon -the night when, according to folk stories, vampires were thirsty for blood, and in the nearby villages animals and people were found dead.

Or maybe they did notice, but that wasn’t their business.

* * *

 

Fabrizio’s family was so poor that, after his siblings died of hardships, with a heavy heart his parents sent their remaining child to the local monastery, where he would be warm and fed.

He hadn’t become a priest yet when he was sent to the nearby mountain to pick some herbs.

When he got back he saw hell on earth: everyone had been killed, blood was everywhere. Vampires, was a dying novice’s last word.  
Fabrizio stared at the bodies of his second family for hours, crying and cursing those monsters and God and himself; then he burned everything down and left.

He wandered like a stray, alone, in gangs, then alone again, stealing and eating rubbish and fighting everyone even though he just wanted to fight those who destroyed his life, even if he had no chance against them.

He ended in jail, where his cellmate listened to his story and told him that the only way to get strong enough to fight a vampire was bathe in the blood of another.  
That man taught Fabrizio everything he knew. They escaped, together, through a network of catacomb roads underground, far away from the sunlight where everyone was searching for them.  
They made it outside on a full moon night, when the man put a wooden stake in Fabrizio's hands and revealed his identity: he was the leader of the vampire gang that raided the monastery, he was tired of that so-called life and he wanted it to end by the hands of someone who suffered because of his actions.  
For Fabrizio that man had become a mentor; losing him was almost like losing his family for the third time, even more so because he had to kill him, but his revenge -his justice, for his family- was more important.

He smeared himself with his blood as taught and recklessly barged into the vampires’ hideout where, driven by rage, he killed them, making sure they suffered as much as their victims had.

Vampire blood has weird effects on humans, and he was completely soaked in it.  
Looking like a red demon he wandered again, occasionally killing other vampires, at times praised as a protector, others feared as no longer a human.  
Indeed he was stronger than a human, his senses were sharper and his lifespan was going to be way longer; he just knew it, like he knew many things he didn’t know before.  
The blood of the vampires he had killed, the blood that dirtied him, had given him part of their strength but also their knowledge. It had also given him their memories.

Haunted by them, constantly in a trance, he crossed many borders and killed other vampires, whose memories added to the visions flooding his mind, all of them horrible and so overwhelming that his own memories were fading away.

Until he arrived to a white church at the end of a forest, whose shape and color reminded him of the one in his hometown, before his first family took him to the monastery where he lived a peaceful childhood with his second family, before he burned their corpses and the building down.

On its facade there was a writing in his native language: Church of the Purgatory.  
A church for those who were too dirty to enter Heaven, but fought not to be thrown in Hell; a church for sinful yet troubled souls; a church for him, whose soul was agonizingly drowning in an abyss made of memories of cruel creatures and of his own memories of killing them.

He felt compelled to go inside and confess his sins but no one was there.

He prayed, asking God to send him a sign.

Days, weeks passed and nothing happened. He cleaned himself up, he wore the old clothes he found in the small bedroom, he punished himself by fasting even though there were fields down the hill.

And then he heard children voices, defying one another to enter the haunted church, then he heard the door creaking open and he saw a bunch of eyes staring at him and mouths gaping, and when they disappeared he thought he was hallucinating but they soon returned with their parents bringing him food and clothes, warmly greeting him, telling him that they waited so long for a new priest, after the previous one had been killed during one of the worst attacks in the history of the village.

When they left he had a vision of the horrible things vampires had done not only to the priest but also to the parents and relatives of those people.

He fainted; when he woke up he knew what to do. He would used his strength to protect them.

He kept his promise. He's still keeping it.  
Only not in the way he had done before, by killing vampires.  
This time he offered himself to them. To one of them, precisely, as most vampires are territorial.

He's still offering himself to that one.

Every new moon, when the creature wakes up hungry, he always goes to the secluded church at the end of the forest where he lives. He always finds the Priest waiting for him, collar already open for him to feast on his blood.

And _more_.

They have a deal after all, and the Priest belongs to him completely. Blood, body and soul.

* * *

In the past Fabrizio would have killed _him_ at first sight that night, as he returned from the neighbouring village, where he had collected a sum of money for an old parishioner who couldn’t travel anymore.

 _His_ victim was already dead though, the only thing he could do for her was pray for her soul. Besides, something about _him_ struck a chord with the priest. He looked slightly younger than him, his skin was even paler than most of his kind, he had curly dark hair and thin, sharp features in both face and body.

What struck him the most was the guilt and shame in his almost black eyes.

He was doing what he had to do to survive but he wasn’t enjoying it. In fact he was hating himself for it.

* * *

Ermal escaped when he saw a stranger’s eyes on him, but he didn’t not far.

That stranger’s blood had a different scent. It made him want to taste it.

* * *

Ermal’s father was a cruel man who beat his wife and children. As the eldest of them, the boy defended his mother and siblings every time he could, which weren’t many, as he was just a child, who only knew happiness when the man suddenly left them.

He, as well as his family, was still happy when their country was attacked.

They just had to be careful, their mother would say: their small country had been attacked many times already, each time by a different invader, but they still existed.

Yet this was the first time they were attacked by vampires.

A particularly sadistic group, who weren’t just thirsty for blood; they made new vampires to enlarge their so-called army, to bring havoc and break the balance between the two races once and for good.

Ermal’s father was one of them.

When he barged into his old house and found his sons grown up and ready to fight he was amused. He laughed when his eldest said that he had always been a disgusting monster, even before becoming a vampire.

He offered his son a choice: either him or his brother. He knew that Ermal would offer himself in exchange for his family’s safety.

The last thing Ermal saw before passing away from blood loss were his father’s fangs retracting and his breath on his face as he laughed and whispered that he was going to become just like him. A disgusting monster. A vampire.

When he woke up, nights after that incident, his mother hugged him tight: their father had left, he had kept his word for once so they were all unharmed and it was all because of him. He had protected them. He had saved them.

Ermal was happy, until he felt hungry and thirsty at the same time, and dizzy.

Then he remembered. He was no longer a human.

His family offered to feed him with their blood. At first he accepted, making sure the amounts were minimal. But he couldn’t go on like that, hurting them in order to barely appease his hunger, and he couldn’t go on looking in their eyes and seeing their discomfort as they looked back at him.

Besides, rumours were spreading already, and they would be condemned as witches if caught sheltering a vampire.

So he left. He travelled at nights, hiding in caves like a wild animal. He starved himself, hoping to die, but every time, at the last moment, the self-preservation typical of his vampire nature took control of him, driving him outside to find blood.

When he arrived to a city where people spoke a different language and dressed in a different way he didn’t know if he was because in a different country or time. There was some truth in both.

There he learned that most vampires preferred to live in big cities and hide in plain sight, mingling with the humans and their nightlife. Most of them enjoyed their nature, their strength and enhanced senses, and they mercilessly lived off humans, whom they saw as inferior beings created to be their food, just like humans considered animals. Some of them were almost normal; others were completely crazy; in one way or another all of them helped him come to terms with his nature, and introduced him to their community, where he would be accepted for who he was.

Yet he felt no affinity for them, as deep down he never got rid of the guilt and self-loathing for the monster he had become. Just like his father.

He left that city and moved to another, then another, then another, and then more, important and unknown ones, where he learned different languages and he associated with local vampires and their activities, but they were all the same to him.

He didn't belong with them.

He belonged in the woods, in solitude, like monsters deserve.

Thus he returned to the wild, wandering under the moonlight, feeding on animals only when his body forced him to, escaping all company.

Sometimes he thought about his mother, his brother, his sister. They were dead already. Even their sons, even their descendants were dead already.

He hated killing humans but none of them left an impression on him anymore.

He didn't feel for them anymore; he didn't feel like them either, as expected of a disgusting monster.

Only one human left an impression on him.

His eyes weren't afraid or disgusted.

* * *

The church was always open.

Ermal read the writing, he knew that language very well. It was very different from the one spoken in that area.

He entered from the front door. _That human_ was kneeling in front of the altar.

“Close the door, brother,” he said without turning, in a low calm voice, “there are dangers outside”.

In the bat of an eye Ermal was behind him.

“There are dangers inside as well,” he whispered, fangs almost grazing his face as he inhaled the scent whose traces he had been trailing.

“...You’re not wrong, brother”

Fabrizio quickly turned around, holding a stake.

This is the vampire he spotted. Wasn’t he guilty? Where’s that guilt now? He wondered as they fought, as Ermal realized that his opponent wasn’t an ordinary human.

When he scratched his cheek he had a taste of his blood: it tasted like nothing else. It was special. It was addictive.

So much that he made a mistake and Fabrizio took advantage of it. He pinned Ermal on the ground, the stake pointed at his heart.

“I’m going to pray for your soul, vampire”.

Ermal smirked. This was amusing. Intriguing.

This man was strong and fast. Yet not as much as a vampire.

“Save your prayers for now. I’m out of your league”.

He flipped them over, switching positions so that he was straddling the human, who squirmed beneath him, fighting hard to get him off, almost surprised that such a slender build could be so heavy. He tried to impale him; Ermal threw the piece of wood away and immobilized the priest’s arms above his head.

Then he ripped his shirt open and bit him between neck and shoulder.

The man hissed, biting his lip not to show pain, even though Ermal drank so fast that he could feel getting weaker each time the vampire hungrily swallowed his blood.

Then he stopped and wiped his mouth, licking the blood from his fingers, as it was too delicious to waste even a single drop.

_He had never felt this way, wanting to suck the man dry but also not wanting the feast to end._

“Are you going to kill me?”

Ermal straightened his back at the question, shifting his weight on top of the human who sighed, already worn out by the effort of trying not to sound like he was about to faint.

“Weren’t you trying to kill me too?”

Fabrizio didn’t look afraid at all. Just exhausted. He slowly tried to move his arms where Ermal’s fingers had dug red marks, but they didn’t make it past his head level.

“Fair enough. What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“First of all I’ll have a good sleep, your blood is really delicious, so different from everyone else’s. I’m sure it’s very nutritious. I’ll probably stay full for a couple of months,” the vampire replied in a teasing tone, “and when I’ll be hungry again I’ll come back here...churches mean lots of food”.

Fabrizio looked worried then.

“Don’t do that...I swore to protect them”.

Ermal raised an eyebrow, or rather, what should have been an eyebrow as his were almost invisible.

“Promises are not valid after death, you know,” he snarkily remarked.

The priest’s expression became darker and even more serious.

“I beg you...don’t do that”.

Even though the vampire didn’t know him he had seen enough of him to understand that he wasn’t the type who begged, and yet he was doing it. The wall of smug sarcasm crumbled down, and Ermal’s eyes showed the same guilt and self-loathing from _that time_.

“I...even when I force myself not to, my body moves on its own until it finds blood...”

_Fabrizio’s vampire mentor had taught him everything about his kind, so much that he knew that they were similar to snakes and big predators, that once fed weren’t hungry for a long time, so they needed to feed less frequently than folk stories described. Yet he had never taught him about this, maybe because he had never felt the way, he had never really hated himself like this vampire felt. His words were clear: he didn’t want to drink blood but he had to. He had tried many times not to give in to blood craving, and he had always failed, because his body, his species’ self-preservation prevented him from wasting away._

“Hey,” Fabrizio tried lifting his waist in order to make the other shift his weight upon him, with no result. “How about a deal: you won’t touch anyone in this village. Never. In exchange, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, whenever you want”.

Ermal chuckled. He put on the smug mask again.

“You would let me? Look at you now...you’re beneath me. You’re my prey. I am stronger than you”.

He didn’t expect the human to move so quickly, grabbing his shoulders to head-butt him.

He almost made it but the vampire pinned him back to the ground again.

Fabrizio smirked.

“You’re stronger...I but I am a fast learner. Every time I fall I learn and get stronger”.

Then he became serious.

“You don’t want to have me as your enemy”.

Ermal felt his stare on him. It gave him the chills. Almost.

_Because he was stronger. Because he was not a child scared of his father anymore. Because he was a monster._

“You said it yourself, my blood is delicious, it’s different from everyone else’s,” Fabrizio explained, still serious but not threatening as before, “You don’t want theirs. You don’t want them. You want me”.

Ermal’s grip loosened again as he mumbled, almost to himself.

“I can take what I want...”

Fabrizio didn’t try to attack him this time. Instead, he put his hand on the vampire’s knee.

_Ermal felt another chill, for a different reason._

“I know. But wouldn’t you like to take it without fighting?”

* * *

Ermal returned with the new moon, as if he were the villain in a folk tale.

He was in a teasing mood; even though Fabrizio was waiting for him, collar already open, he didn’t even put his fangs out. Instead he went on and on about drinking the villagers’ blood.

“We have a deal”.

The priest reminded him, his face turning from exasperated to threatening. Ermal steeled himself against that expression, that would have been scary to a human, not to him.

Besides, pushing the boundaries was amusing.

“I’m not sure I want to keep it,” he replied, a mischievous smile on his pale face as he blew a curly bang away from his eye.

Fabrizio didn’t say anything at first. He just shook his head in disapproval. Then he took a knife out from a holster attached to his belt. Ermal briefly wondered what kind of priest he was exactly, when, with a quick motion, he cut his palm.

“You want my blood, not everyone else’s. And I am offering it to you. Just take it and respect the deal”.

The drops of blood fell on the ground, one by one. Ermal could smell them; at each drop he could feel the hunger rising.

As he rushed towards him though, Fabrizio shows him the blade. It’s in silver. He puts it between his hand and the vampire.

“What is it that you want? Their blood or mine?”

Ermal looked at him but didn’t reply. He hated to beg. He really did. But he was going crazy.

“Them or me? Answer me!” Fabrizio insisted, cutting his palm again.

_More delicious blood going wasted._

“Your blood! You!” Ermal screamed, in a way that his dignified kin living in the cities and acting classy and refined would frown upon.

“You must promise. A real, unbreakable promise” the priest pressed.

Ermal took a deep breath and looked in Fabrizio’s eyes.

“From now on I solemnly promise not to attack anyone, and to only feed on your blood”.

Fabrizio threw the knife away.

“Then it’s yours. I’m yours”

In a second Ermal grabbed his wrist and licked the blood from the cuts on his hand.

The whole time Fabrizio stared at the vampire making little sucking noises, at his dark curly hair covering his face, at his own blood smearing his lips and chin.

He seemed completely oblivious to anything but his blood in that moment.

_He could probably kill him when he was in such state, he should keep this in mind, he told himself; even though they have a deal such a mercurial type might change his mind anytime._

When the wounds stopped bleeding Ermal stopped feeding as well.

_He felt the human’s eyes on him all the time; it was embarrassing and weird, to have someone calmly stare at the one who’s sucking his blood._

_It made him feel like a monster, or rather, it reminded him that he was one._

“That’s it? Are you sure?” Fabrizio asked.

Ermal nodded. “I greatly enjoyed this...meal”.

He truly didn’t belong with the vampires he met in the cities all around the world. He wanted to sound refined like them, he wanted to sound sarcastic as usual but somehow he just sounded shy.

_Like a kid who was offered something but was too shy, too afraid of taking it._

“Is this enough for you to go on? We have a deal, you don’t have to hold back”.

Ermal found the confidence he lacked earlier. Even too much of it.

“If I don’t hold back you die, human. You can’t take me”.

He pointed out, keeping his head, his chin high, so that he was looking down at Fabrizio, who stared back at the vampire, specularly keeping his head low and looking slightly up, as he smirked darkly.

“You don’t know how much I can take”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making you wait so long, this chapter was longer than expected so I split it in 2 parts.  
> Once again let me repeat that this is a work of fiction that has NOTHING to do with the real people whose names and appearance are used here.  
> So PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FIC REACH OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA.  
> And once again let me warn you that this is a darkfic, this chapter will have an explicit sex scene that might appear controversial. Let's say 'differently consensual' lol.  
> Seriously though, it is NOT!! rape!! but anyway it might be disturbing to some readers who are comfortable with less ambiguous situations. So if you are disturbed or offended by these themes, and by religious imagery, don't read. I'll explain more about this (and everything else) in the end notes, for those who will go on reading.  
> Speaking of which, do you have your holy water with you? You better do xD
> 
> (on a different note I might as well call this fic 'perpetually tired Fabri and drama queen Ermal' lol. more in the end notes anyway)

 

 

 

> _“I live for you but I’m not alive_ _  
> _ _take my hands before I kill you” (Alice in Chains, Love Hate Love)_

 

The following new moon Ermal didn’t hold back.

_Almost._

Like a wild beast he pounced on Fabrizio, he bit his throat and dug his nails into his wrists, sucking his blood until he was full.

The priest was silent, visibly paler and worn out.

"Did I...drink too much?"

Ermal asked, hesitating out of embarrassment, eyes almost hidden by his dark curls. Maybe he had been too greedy; he had drank the blood of many humans and during his travels he had participated at the decadent feasts that most of his kind loved, but he had never enjoyed anything like he enjoyed this man's blood.

_He had never met anyone like him either._

Fabrizio shook his head. When he recovered enough to speak properly he asked if his hunger varied each month, and when the vampire replied that it didn't, he asked why he took such a smaller amount the last time, and most of it all how he managed until that moment.

He recognized the guilty, almost childish look on Ermal's face, the same as the first time he saw him.

“I...fed on a rabbit a few days after I came to you. And another one a few days ago”.

He explained that Fabrizio’s blood was different from anyone else's, inebriating even, so much that it was hard to know if he was full or not. Besides, he added sarcastically, he was used to people whimpering, praying, even cursing him, not to a silent and calm, even curious stare as he sucked their blood. It was creepy. He was a creepy human, he added, making a face.

_Fear was a shield to defend himself. He was feared because he was a vampire, he was stronger than them, but unlike his kin he didn’t enjoy killing or making his victims suffer._

_He didn’t even revel in his strength: vampires were stronger than humans, there was nothing interesting in it._

_What was interesting was a human almost as strong as a vampire._

_That human intrigued him._

Fabrizio seemed unimpressed. “We have a deal, vampire”.

“I didn’t know it included animals,” Ermal retorted. “And, by the way, my name is Ermal... priest”.

“Now you know,” said priest replied with a serious look. Then he put a hand on his chest and said his name. The vampire nodded and turned his back on him, ready to leave.

Fabrizio grabbed his wrist. His tone was softer. “Come to me whenever you’re hungry...Ermal”.

It was weird to hear his name coming out of those plump lips; his accent was different from locals but also from the people who used to call him in his native language, a long time ago. His family. His mother and brother and sister. His grandmother. They were all dead now, he didn't even know since how long.

It was painful to think about them so he spoke again.

“You really want to see me, huh, Bizio?”

Not sure if he mispronounced his name or if it was some weird nickname, Fabrizio raised an eyebrow, the side of his lip slightly curving upwards.

“Hn. I should kill you”.

* * *

“Is _it_ for me?”

Ermal jokingly asked, pointing his chin at the half unbuttoned shirt Fabrizio was wearing, a few moons later. The human smirked.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” the human touched one of the buttons, “my clothes belonged to my predecessor, who was thinner I guess, kinda like you. Trousers fit but shirts are so tight that if I button them up I choke, and you wouldn’t like that huh?”

“Only if I’m not the one who chokes you...Bizio” Ermal rebuked.

The other widened his eyes then he smirked, making the vampire laugh.

Shouldn’t priest be scaredy prudes? He thought; he hoped to elicit his embarrassment but this reaction too was intriguing.

“...Besides,” Fabrizio continued with an amused expression, “When I tried buttoning them up the top buttons fell off and I ripped one open when I moved around, and this pissed off the kind lady who repairs my clothes. In fact, she might be the one who’ll choke me...and I take you wanted to be the one _doing things_ to my throat, right?”

Ermal didn't expect his teasing joke to be turned against him.

_Besides, the thought of another person standing close to Fabrizio makes him feel weird._

"So you gotta be careful with these damn shirts or at least bring me new ones...I mean, aren't you vampires filthy rich?"

Fabrizio said.

“Not everyone”.

_Vampires’ legendary fortunes came from their robbing and stealing and killing and establishing humans’ properties as their own._

_Ermal had lived in many of those properties with their new owners, but since he had abandoned the city he was living in an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods, where humans didn't arrive anymore as a landslide had hidden it from travellers’ view._

_And destroyed half of it._

“How stingy can you be?” the vampire scoffed, “Take that rag off if you care so much about it!”

Ermal thought of his lonely cabin where part of the roof had fallen down and the branches and leaves of a tree had replaced that side of the ceil, and to the botola under the pavimento, the only suitable place to protect himself from the sunlight and sleep. Then he thought about this church, isolated but on everyone’s sight, with humans doing chores for the priest, talking to him, surrounding him in daylight. He had a similar life once, and he liked it. _He even missed it at times, even though for potentially immortal creatures the present was more important that the past, thus nostalgia wasn’t as painful as for humans._

So he focused on something else, like the delicious blood he was about to drink, and the handsome priest to whom it belonged, as he left his shirt on a bench and took a step towards him.

_There was nothing strange in a vampire enjoying their preys’ appearance; Ermal wasn't new to this, as during his travels he had associated with the decadent types for whom feeding was a feast for all senses, and drinking blood was just one of the many courses._

_Fabrizio wasn't new to such information either; his mentor had told him many tales of their debauchery._

_Back then, when they were locked in a dark, damp prison, he would have never imagined that the man talked that way because he was disgusted for having had too much of those, just like he would have never imagined him to be a vampire._

_He didn't see Ermal that way either._

_There was something different about him, a naivete his kind lacked, as expected of decades or century old creatures, although he didn’t think that the vampire’s childlike looks of guilt were just because he wasn't as old as others._

“By the way...what kind of priest are you? Are you even one?”

Ermal casually asked as the other stood in front of him, partly to steer his thoughts to another direction, partly because he was curious.

He had seen different people, countries and cultures but he had never seen a priest with such wild appearance, from his black hair pointing at all directions to his clothes, a plain black outfit consisting of trousers and those unpriestly unbuttoned shirts, a black vest, sometimes, where he kept his tobacco, sometimes a tattered looking hat, and, only indicator of his priesthood, a rosary worn as a necklace.  

"What kind of question is this?" Fabrizio asked in return.

"I'm sure priest don't have tattoos. Not even like _these_ ," Ermal pointed at the big cross tattooed at the center of his chest, then he lifted his chin and tilted his head to point out that he had seen the Christ on his back as well. It was commonly known that only two kinds of people had tattoos: sailors and criminals. Not priests.

_Maybe he had a conversion experience in jail, or during a shipwreck; one thing was sure, he was no ordinary priest._

_Ermal just couldn't imagine him with a bowl cut, his legs hidden by a gown, his hoarse voice chanting devotional songs in a group, his peculiar attitude obeying to older priests and abbotts._

_Even though that very attitude was now obeying to him._

“It’s a long story," Fabrizio said, "and you must be hungry".

Ermal placed a hand on his chest, tracing the cross.

_He was not sure if the human shivered because his hands were cold or because of the touch of his fingers on his chest._

* * *

 

An external staircase at the right of the church led to the bell and to Fabrizio’s private quarters: a single room with a cooking area that a wooden screen separated from the center, with a small table and two chairs, another screen vaguely delimiting the sleeping area, with a big drawer on the wall, a few shelves with books and other objects and a bed. There was also another screen that almost hid the basin and a porcelain clawfoot tub.

_Fabrizio said he never paid attention to it, he didn’t choose the furniture and no one remembered the previous priest._

_“How can you not have noticed the wolf paws? You even have a wolf tattooed on your arm!” Ermal teased._

_He had noticed both details because he used to be afraid of wolves, then he had become a vampire, so his fear vanished and he grew to be fascinated by those solitary and loyal beasts._

_When he had occupied the cabin he was outraged at seeing a stuffed wolf there. He buried it outside, during a full moon night._

Ermal said that even though the church was quite ugly compared to the ones he had seen around the world, it has an intriguing weirdness, and he definitely preferred to have his meal there instead of Fabrizio’s room, also because the cross, the altar, the holy water, added a forbidden, special flavor to it.

If the surroundings were like spices seasoning an already delicious food, the contrast between how straight the priest stood _before_ , and how hunched he was after holding his breath as he was bitten in the throat was like having it served on a luxurious table, decorated with porcelain plates and crystal glasses.

Fabrizio preferably leaned against a wall, but Ermal didn’t always make things easy for him, sometimes because he wasn’t paying attention to anything but his hunger, others because he enjoyed the way he leaned on him for support, how heavier and closer he got the weaker he was feeling, the more the vampire was drinking. Sometimes, when he felt that the human was about to faint in his arms, he pushed him against the wall to shake him up from his stupor, then he would have a good look at the dark circles under his hazy eyes, his sunken cheeks enhancing his high cheekbones, his parted lips and his chest unsteadily going up and down beneath his palm keeping him in place.

_For once Ermal would not curse his existence, cause even though during his human life he had learned to take a hit and fight back, only as a vampire he had become strong enough to overpower someone like him._

_Only as a vampire he had the chance to admire someone like him, to touch someone like him, just like one of those masterpieces of art that he had seen during his travels._

That time, when he was done, Fabrizio seemed particularly spent. He was actually spent since the start, which he had justified with having helped an old farmer with his work.

_He was tired most if the time anyway; he was stronger than a normal human so he pushed himself to the limit if others needed help._

_To the point of granting a vampire full access on him._

Ermal took him upstairs. When he placed him on the bed he noticed that it was too big for a priest, who was supposed to sleep alone in it. The human made a face, reminding the other that he had already stated that he had no idea about his predecessor. The vampire shrugged then took a place next to him, lying on his side, supporting his head with one arm, the other idly laying on Fabrizio’s chest -the bed was larger than a single one but it was smaller than one for two- he asked again about his life, jokingly promising that whatever he had done to it was safe to tell him, as even if he spilled it out no one would believe a vampire, defaming the priest who was sacrificing himself to protect them.

_He asked again because he was curious._

_He asked again because Fabrizio seemed really worn out -for the extra work, not for him, for he could take him, Ermal told himself- and he felt like keeping an eye on him._

_He asked again because he didn't want to leave and return to his unsafe ugly cabin._

_He asked again because he didn’t want to be alone._

"Don't be stingy with details, they're the best part of every story" the vampire added, and the human complied. In a low strained voice, between broken breaths, he disclosed the story of his life with brutal honesty: the hardships and the loss of his real family when he was a child; the safety and the joy of finding another one between the monastery walls and its tragic loss; the anger at God who had allowed such tragedy to happen, at vampires who had carried it out, at himself and everyone crossing his path; his delinquency, the consequent time in jail and the bond with the mysterious man who taught him everything about vampires; the escape from prison through underground passages; the revelation that his mentor was not only a vampire, but one of those who had massacred his friends; the revenge and its off flavor once he had realized that he was going to kill someone he had grown attached to; the way he had obtained powers that made him different from other humans and the way he had used them to slay all the vampires he came across; their memories flooding his brain, bringing confusion during a journey he didn't quite remember even though it had taken him through different countries; the arrival in this church where he woke up as himself again; the endless prayers for a sign and the villagers welcoming him as a priest, not a vampire slayer. That was a sign, he had thought, just like stumbling upon a church that looked like those from his country, a church where the engraving were written in his native language.

He could have used powers obtained by bathing in the blood of creatures he had mercilessly killed to protect people.  

Even if he wasn't a priest he had learned enough rites in the monastery. Besides, people mostly needed someone to listen to them and comfort them.

_And protect them. He was good at all three._

Ermal listened to his story with the utmost attention.

It explained how different Fabrizio was, with his longer lifespan, sharper senses and more resistant body.

_No human would survive such blood loss._

It also explained why Fabrizio was so different, as even though he protected humans with all his might he didn’t act or talk or feel one of them. _Not anymore._

Ermal had that impression of him since he came into the church for the first time, since they fought and he looked into his fearless eyes: that man was alone. Even around his people. He was like him, who had fled the company of other vampires with whom he didn't belong.

There was something else they had in common: guilt.

Humans took pride in killing vampires, as it meant they were strong; Fabrizio didn’t, Ermal could tell by the way he spoke about those he had fought and killed.

As if he didn’t hate them like all humans did. _Not anymore._

“I’m sorry about what _they_ did to your monastery,” Ermal mused. “Vampire gangs are...horrifying. A nightmare. Even for other vampires”.

_Another thing they had in common was that their lives had been destroyed by vampires._

_Sometimes Ermal still wondered how his father had become a vampire in the first place, even though, having always been a monster, it was only natural for him to become the leader of those who had invaded his country._

_Fabrizio noticed the change in his tone; as he turned towards him, he saw his forlorn look._

_He said nothing, as he was tired for having spoken so much, and because he knew the other wouldn’t have told him. What he knew, instead, was that most vampires were born out of tragedies and that Ermal’s was still in his heart._

“Why be sorry for something you didn’t do?” The priest replied bitterly.

For a second Ermal was offended. He even considered attacking him and not just verbally, but he realized that the bitterness wasn’t directed at him.

It wasn’t even bitterness, but self-loathing.

“I killed my mentor and bathed in his blood in order to kill the whole gang. I tied them up with silver and tortured them, making sure they all suffered. One of them was a child”.

Fabrizio was looking straight ahead, his gaze lost in the memories of the past.

“Child vampires aren’t children anymore,” Ermal whispered. He had met many of those vicious beings during his travels and he knew how dangerous they were.

“I was drenched in their blood. I had obtained my revenge, yet I kept killing all the vampires that crossed my path. I didn't even remember who I was anymore...maybe because I was just like them”.

“It must have been overwhelming…”

Words escaped the vampire’s mouth without him even realizing that he was justifying a human admitting to have been a bloodthirsty killer of his kin.

But he wasn't like other vampires, and the human wasn't like other humans.

They weren't like anyone else.

Their deal was the proof.

* * *

 

Time didn’t really matter for a vampire, yet Ermal kept track of it by the nights passed after his last encounter with Fabrizio and the nights til the next one.

_He should think about those nights as meal nights but there was more. Each time._

His visits were longer, as he had to make sure the other wouldn't pass out or worse, or so he claimed. He asked questions, sometimes out of curiosity, sometimes to tease him, sometimes to have a reason to stay longer.

_On the contrary he didn’t say much about himself, aside from the places he visited, including the sunny country Fabrizio came from._

_The human didn’t pry, as he understood that he wanted to keep his past secret._

Time didn’t really matter for Fabrizio, who had lost sense of it when he had burned the monastery and the corpses of all those who had mattered to him. It didn’t matter when he lived on the streets and cheated and stole and fought, it didn’t matter when he was in jail; it certainly didn’t matter when he had wandered and killed vampires until he had gotten here, nor when he was always the same, while villagers were growing old, and he would make them smile by telling them that their prayers were keeping him strong enough to protect them.

Yet he kept track of moon phases and made sure no one would come to the church on those nights.

_They have a deal, after all._

It was impossible to keep everything under control forever though.

* * *

 

When a woman got to the church on a new moon night, crying and asking for help as her husband had had an accident in the fields and the doctor had said there was nothing they could do, he followed her in a rush to give the man the last rites.

When he returned Ermal was there, observing him warily, like a cat left alone for too long.

“You smell like death...” He spoke in a low tone, taking in the scent of his clothes.

“I administered last rites to a villager,” Fabrizio replied dryly.

"I know. I saw you".

The vampire's words made the other freeze, as even though they had a deal it was safer that he never went to the village.

"I also saw how you held that woman's hands. How tight you hugged her".

That man and his wife were among the children who had ventured into the church and found him. They were the ones who had first come back with their parents. They had a special place in his heart, almost as sons.

_Even though he looked the same age as them._

Fabrizio didn't reply. There was nothing to say, his natural comforting gesture needed no explanation.

_Except for Ermal, who had hugged and had been hugged only by his family and his lover, when he was alive, and after becoming a vampire he had experienced many types of contact but hugs were something else entirely._

"So you give the husband last rites while you’re working the wife to your advantage or was it a thing already?" Ermal rebuked.

_Vampires weren’t jealous, as they could hypnotizing everyone into doing what they wanted, even love them, and since they were immortal creatures they grew tired and moved on easily, having infinite opportunities everywhere, with everyone._

_Not even during his human life Ermal was jealous, yet something dark and heavy was burning in his chest now._

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Fabrizio replied harshly.

_Despite the tragic fatality that man died surrounded by his family and friends, a blessing Fabrizio would never have because he was alone, because he had lost everyone, because his hands were dirty from all the sins he had committed, for which he would have faced eternal damnation, because his soul was dirty with vampire blood that prolonged his life and even though he was trying to atone, using his strength to protect the village, he wasn’t and he would never be a part of it._

_He wasn’t even a normal human anymore, he could tell it every time he was with people._

_He didn’t even want to be a part of them. Maybe, and maybe the only one more similar to him wasn’t human at all._

"You have their smells all over you," Ermal hissed, getting closer.

"Then what you just said makes no sense," the priest retorted, unfazed.

_If Ermal's accusations were true he would have smelled it: vampires had heightened senses. He had too, since he had bathed in their blood, but they were not as good as theirs._

"Stop bitching and take what you came for".

Fabrizio spoke authoritatively, coldly, as he had no intention to deal with a moody vampire's antics, unlike many other times.

"I can't," Ermal growled, "Cause you smell like the tasteless insignificant death of an insignificant human".

Despite his unnecessarily cruel words to he was the one suffering more, at the obvious thought that Fabrizio had a life in daylight, with other people. Without him. Him, who had nothing instead.

_When he wasn't hungry he watched nocturnal animals in the woods, but they were always scared of him, as he was a predator, even though he had promised not to touch them. So he mostly watched the stars, sometimes wandering, never mixing with anyone._

"Do you want me to take a bath then?"

Fabrizio was visibly restraining himself.

_He knew the vampire referred to something other than a real scent._

_He was referring to the human vibe around him, that he usually lacked because the village was small and people minded their own business, as they had a lot to do. His duties with them were limited._

Ermal grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head backwards to expose his throat.

“It would take too long and I'm hungry and it's almost dawn...”

"So what the fuck are you still waiting for?" Fabrizio hissed.

“We have a deal. And you didn't respect it".

Ermal said darkly. The other interrupted: he did respect it. There was an unexpected event, but he came back for him.

"I wouldn't call it respect...which reminds me that although your blood is the best, I could look for food elsewhere. Like that woman...She'd probably thank me anyway. I bet she wants to be with her husband..." he threatened.

"Don't even think about it you-"

"You what? You monster?"

_Asshole, Fucker, any insult coming from anger, but not monster, a judgement he wouldn't have passed, as he didn't feel that different. If only he could explain..._

"I'm gonna show you the monster!"

Ermal grabbed his throat; with the speed that only a supernatural creature had he pushed him against the wall, not releasing his grip even when he coughed loudly, gasping for air.

"The deal...is about me. Do whatever you want to me. Only me." He wheezed out as the grip on his throat tightened at his words.

The vampire punched him in the stomach, mouth almost watering at his jugular pulsing beneath his finger.

“I shall take that smell away from you my own way,” Ermal said eerily.

He pulled out his fangs and claws and ripped his shirt before throwing it away. Drops of blood were on his chest; he quickly licked them, then shoved Fabrizio against the altar, then up on it.

He stripped him of the rest of his clothes before climbing on the altar too.

The priest cried out for the first time when bitten.

The vampire had never been so famished and aggressive before; he kept biting him all over, from his chest to his stomach, from his arms to his inner thighs, smearing his blood over his body.

“Now you smell like me,” he whispered after a while, then he licked the human clean, sucking from each and every of his wounds, getting high on the great amount of blood he had, so much that he found it hard to keep a straight posture while kneeling above the human sprawled on the altar beneath him.

“Is it...enough?”

Fabrizio's voice was hoarse, almost inaudible.

“No...” Ermal murmured almost to himself as he stared at the human.

_It is. It is? It should be. And yet..._

“It's not enough...”

_Hunger, anger, despair and confusion in his eyes._

_As if he knew what he was doing but also not._

_As if he had no other choice but to follow his nature._

_Even though he felt guilty for it._

_The same expression of the first time Fabrizio saw him._

“Go on then...It's alright”.

Even on the verge of fainting Fabrizio didn't look afraid.

_Or submissive._

He cried out again when the vampire penetrated him. He cried out when he moved in and out of him. Then he stopped, and only Ermal's intelligible grunts filled the room. Then he screamed and then the church was silent.

Too silent.

Fabrizio wasn't breathing properly.

Ermal called the human over and over, shaking him, hitting his chest, trying mouth-to-mouth but nothing worked.

_He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t lose the only one who mattered to him._

He let out a panicked cry. Then, he pulled himself together.

Vampire blood had made him stronger than a human; vampire blood would heal him faster, so he cut his wrist and let the sticky droplets rain on Fabrizio's lips.

His intuition was right.

Fabrizio coughed a few times because of the liquid forced down his throat, but instinctively swallowed.

He opened his eyes minutes later. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, a cut on his right cheek and a split lip, bite marks from his neck down, as well as cuts and bruises.

_He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful but now he was even more attractive._

_Ermal would have been ashamed to think such things in the past, but he had learned that vampires had a different, darker, wicked taste. They were predators who loved to play with their prey, and seeing them in pain because of them was more than satisfying. It was arousing._

_There was more though: he felt guilty for that pain he had caused him._

When Ermal spoke to him Fabrizio didn't reply at first; he looked confused, unfocused, absent. As if his body was there but his mind was somewhere else.

He didn’t even bother to get down from the altar.

_Ermal offered to ease him down but he shook his head. He assumed that the human didn't want his hands on him anymore, and he couldn't blame him._

_Guilt was something vampires never felt._

_Guilt was something they had in common._

He didn’t seem to care about his clothes, that the vampire put beside him, and he nodded when the other stated that it was almost dawn, mumbled something like an apology and quickly headed for the door, glancing at him before disappearing.

Every time Fabrizio came into contact with vampire blood he acquired the memories of before and after their human deaths. This had changed his position towards them, as he had realized that he wasn't better than them, and he had decided to protect people from them in another way.

Unknowingly, Ermal hadn’t just poured his blood on him.

It was a smaller amount compared to what had come out of those he had slashed and stabbed over and over, but his mind and heart were flooded with the other’s memories and feelings, more intensely than ever.

Maybe because he wasn’t dead or dying by his hands.

Maybe because there already was a connection between them.

It was overwhelming. So much that he couldn't listen to what was going on outside his head, to what Ermal was saying. He was drowning in the suffering of the Ermal inside his head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I write one for a RPF and I'm quite embarrassed but since I usually write darkfics I guess that side of me just came out. In my defense, I was often asked on tumblr to write something dark about them and since this is an AU I hope it didn't offend or disturb anyone (also because I warned you guys so if you read the whole thing and the notes anyway it's not my fault lol)...it's fiction. Dark fiction has always existed in literature, btw, don't get me started on this. And about the RPF it's still fiction, nothing related to the real people. I mean, can't you tell? xD
> 
> Back to serious stuff. As I was saying this fic is basically perennially tired Fabri who's so so done with everything (big mood btw lol) and unstable drama queen Ermal...it's a funny definition (or I think so) but it's also true, in a tragic, angsty way. Ermal is unstable because he was a simple person with a simple life, he loved his family and defended them from his father, but then that father returned as a vampire and turned him into one, so be became a monster like him and even though he hated what he was he went on living and hurting others cause that's a vampire's nature. He also led the kind of decadent vampire life we know from fiction, but he stopped cause it wasn't for him, so he's hiding in the forest. This also because the original prompt by thedanadelmar described Ermal as a 'lonely vampire', which I liked very much. And Fabri lost his family (both real family and monastery one) and then he lost his so called mentor, the only one he had grown attached to...he had killed him instead, so he's emotionally drained and quite empty inside. He is stronger than normal humans but Ermal drinking his blood really tires him, cause if he were a normal human he'd probably die from that. He told Ermal not to hold back so it's ok. He wants to make sure no one else is in danger. 
> 
> I took to an extreme point a canon fact: that Ermal said that when he loves someone he makes fun of them. Bully Ermal and vampire Ermal have something in common, only in my story it's in a dark context. You can see he kind of makes fun of Fabri, then he acts like he's refined, then he acts innocent. Fabrizio sees his innocent, childlike heart and the guilt he feels, and he considers him special for this, just like Ermal feels Fabri is special because he feels guilty for having killed random vampires.
> 
> Speaking of innocence...the consent issue.  
> In the other fandom where I write I did write a non-con scene, instead I mostly write dub-con which I find interesting to explore. In this fic I want to point out that what happens is consensual. Maybe not in the typical sense, as it's dark and twisted and maybe closer to dub-con that to sweet and loving sex scenes. But still, Fab agreed that Ermal could do whatever he wanted to him, and even before it happens in this chapter, he tells him to go on.  
> Also, and you'll see in the next chapter too, this isn't the kind of fic where the victims gets raped then they fall in love or something, not only cause no one gets actually raped but also because as explained in the fic, Fab understands the person through their blood, so he forms some sort of empathy by obtaining their memories and feelings. This makes him stop judging them, especially in this case since he felt an affinity with Ermal anyway.  
> And he knows that a vampire's nature is violent, nothing can change that, so he accepts it.
> 
> I hope all this is clear, and if it wasn't when reading the chapter, I hope it is now.  
> I also hope no one's going to hell reading this lol. Thanks for putting up with me so far :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it so far.  
> The initial idea expanded so the juiciest stuff will come with next chapter, but don't expect explicit stuff anyway.  
> The story is set in a fantastic Germany-sort of, in a fantastic 1800-something. Sort of.  
> I recently reread one of my favourite books, Hermann Hesse's _Narcissus and Goldmund (:Death And The Lover)_ and it shows a little, for the monastery and the way I imagined the setting, even though I don't do long descriptions so it's all in my head and you're probably wondering why tf you're wasting your time reading this stupid notes  
> The Church of the Purgatory I imagined is inspired by a real church in Peschici, in Apulia, where my parents took me to the sea as a child since they're from that area. I was so intrigued by the skulls on its door, I just had to write something about it.  
> Vampires are written with a few differences every time, with every book or movie or show. In this AU they are kinda like snakes, once they feed they can go on without feeding for a while. But ofc they can feed more often, it's a matter of taste. As if you don't need to eat cake after lunch but you do if you like cake.  
> I admit it: I am enjoying writing 'sucking' and 'swallowing' moments, only with blood lol.  
> I chose to write separate scenes without dwelling too much on their pasts because at first Fabrizio's mind is messed up  
> so my writing reflects this, as well as Ermal's is slowed down so his story is kinda slow. Also, their story develops in a slow time, since their perception of time is different from humans. Meh, don't mind my rants.  
> If you like heavy rock you might want to check the song I took the quote from, btw. It's a great song, troubled and twisted. Perfect for this story.  
> Next time: bring some holy water, just in case.


End file.
